The Purr-Fect Case
by Red Witch
Summary: The Figgis Agency is hired to house sit a Beverly Hills mansion for a weekend. The catch: the mansion filled with 65 cats. But not for long.


**Some cats took away the disclaimer telling you that I don't own any Archer characters. Just some twisted things from my twisted little mind. As well as setting up some possible ideas for new fics. You'll see, when the Figgis Agency gets…**

**The Purr-Fect Case **

"Okay Cheryl has gotten us a new assignment," Cyril called out to the remaining Figgis Agency in the bullpen.

"Translation," Lana sighed. "She's gotten us more busy work **she** doesn't want to do."

"She's right," Cheryl nodded.

"Hey!" Cyril snapped. "Give Cheryl some credit! With Archer in a coma and Mallory off the wagon…"

"That would imply that she was **on the wagon** in the first place," Ray interrupted.

"Wow," Cheryl said. "I knew Ms. Archer was old. I didn't think she was **that** old!"

"Cheryl just tell us what the assignment is and how much you are going to pay us," Cyril sighed. "Before we all completely lose track."

"Yeah tell us what stupid assignment this is," Lana groaned.

"Lana!" Cyril snapped.

"No, she's right," Cheryl groaned. "It **is **a stupid assignment. Even I admit that."

"What is it?" Pam asked.

"I have to baby sit my stupid Aunt Cadence's mansion for the weekend," Cheryl grumbled. "And since she's like over ninety and has almost a billion dollars in her own right and a major stockholder in my company I **have** to do it!"

"You **do?**" Lana asked.

"I'm only member of the family she actually **likes,**" Cheryl admitted. "I think it's because I don't kiss her ass. Plus she also likes to burn gazeboes down as a hobby."

"Another mystery solved," Ray said dryly.

"And if I don't she'll change her stupid will while she's in the hospital and won't leave me or my company any money," Cheryl groaned. "You know for a half blind crazy 97-year-old she is really good at blackmail."

"Is your aunt sick?" Pam asked.

"I **wish!**" Cheryl scoffed. "The old bat makes Ms. Archer look frail! She's going in for plastic surgery! She's getting another face lift."

"Seriously?" Lana asked.

"I know!" Cheryl said. "At her age what's the damn point? Besides she already looks like a wax figure that's been ironed. If her face gets any more lifted her mouth will be on her forehead."

"I mean the only thing we have to do is keep an eye on a mansion in Beverly Hills?" Lana asked. "For a weekend? That's **it**?"

"Get the mail and the paper. Make sure nobody breaks in and feed the cats. That's it," Cheryl said.

"Hang on," Ray said. "This mansion doesn't have any killer plants does it?"

"Unfortunately, no," Cheryl sighed. "My crazy aunt hates those things too. They ate one too many of her cats."

"I'm liking your aunt already," Ray said. "But doesn't your aunt have servants?"

"Not anymore," Cheryl said. "Her last three quit yesterday. Well technically two of them were deported but still…"

"So we're just house sitting a mansion in Beverly Hills?" Pam asked. "Sweet!"

"I don't know," Lana said.

"Lana it's a weekend in a mansion in Beverly Hills!" Pam said. "What's the problem?"

About an hour later…

"Problem," Lana said as she looked at the scene before her.

There were dozens of cats all over the mansion. Purring, scratching the expensive furniture, climbing all over and knocking over antiques. "Well I told you my aunt had cats!" Cheryl said.

"How many cats?" Pam asked.

"65," Cheryl admitted.

"That explains the smell," Krieger wrinkled his nose.

"We have to watch a mansion full of **sixty-five cats**?" Cyril asked.

"Correction," Lana looked at him. "**You **are watching a mansion full of sixty-five cats! I have to take care of my daughter and visit Mallory and Archer!"

"Lana you can't skip out on this!" Cyril said.

"Yeah even **I'm** stuck doing this!" Cheryl added. "My stupid aunt specifically said that I had to be here."

"**You** have to be here," Lana said. "I **don't**! I'll check in on the office and keep an eye on it. That should at least earn me two hours and my share of the money."

"Oh no you **don't!"** Cyril snapped. "You're not pulling **that one** again! There's no way in hell I'm paying you or giving you any hours if you don't stay here!"

"If that's how you feel I might as well tell Mallory about this case," Lana added. "And a few **other things** that have been going on around here."

Cyril didn't skip a beat. "Then again it's not that bad an idea to have **someone** cover the office. And you do have a daughter. And no need to bother Ms. Archer with the details of things. She has enough to worry about. So I guess two hours is more than fair."

"Thought so," Lana turned around. "Call me if there are any problems."

"Wow, Lana's blackmail skills are really getting good," Cheryl said in amazement. "I'm actually impressed."

"I'd be more impressed if we could find some bleach around here," Ray's nose wrinkled with the smell. "Or some decent cat litter."

"Look we're not going to need Lana anyway," Krieger said. "All we have to do is watch a bunch of cats and feed them. How could we possibly screw that up?"

Later that evening…

"What do you mean you lost **all the cats**?" Lana snapped as she stormed into the mansion's study.

"Oh good, you got our text," Pam remarked calmly. She was sipping some scotch from a glass. "Cheryl your aunt has some primo hooch here."

"Almost all Tunts do," Cheryl nodded as she poured some scotch in a glass. "Except the crazy ones."

"We'll keep an eye out for them," Ray said as he sipped his glass.

"You couldn't keep an eye out for **sixty-five cats!"** Lana said.

"Turns out it's harder than you think," Pam admitted.

"Tell me what happened!" Lana snapped. "How could you lose **65 cats?"**

"Well to start with," Ray scratched his head. "Eight of the cats were already dead."

"Already **dead**?" Lana gasped.

"Dead," Ray nodded. "D-E-A-D. Dead."

"How…?" Lana began.

Ray told her. "Four of them were stuffed. As in previously alive at one point but then passed on. And then stuffed. And we found three bodies of cats in the garden. What was left of them."

"That's only seven," Lana said. "You said eight."

"We think the other cats already ate it," Ray sighed. "Judging by how some of the other cats were gnawing on the tails of the dead cats. And the different colored hairballs they were spitting up."

"That's fifty-seven cats left," Lana said.

"Nine of those cats were never alive at all," Ray said. "They were very lifelike dolls."

"So technically we were only responsible for losing forty-eight of the cats," Pam spoke up. "And five of those cats were really sick so they had to be put down."

"It was the humane thing to do," Krieger said as he gave a banged-up Cyril some shots.

"What do you mean by really sick?" Lana asked.

"They were rabid Lana," Pam said. "Krieger, Ray and I had to put them down! Not just to relieve their suffering but to save the **other cats**."

"Are you sure they were rabid?" Lana asked.

"Foaming at the mouth, twitching…" Ray explained. "Went after Cyril like he was a giant mouse covered in barbecue sauce. Yeah. We're sure."

"They attacked **Cyril**?" Lana was stunned.

"Why do you think I look like a scratching post?" Cyril shouted. "OW!"

"Oh, it's not that bad, you big baby," Krieger was giving him some shots. "All done!"

"What happened?" Lana asked.

"I went to feed the cats!" Cyril told her. "Turns out they prefer the taste of human flesh to dry cat food! Who knew?"

"That's when we noticed some of them were foaming at the mouth," Pam explained.

"And these assholes let me get mauled!" Cyril snapped. "I'd better not get rabies!"

"Don't worry," Krieger waved. "Those shots I gave you covered it. Among other things. Uh, just watch out for a few minor side effects."

"What kind of minor side effects?" Cyril asked.

"Let's just say if you notice some extra hair growth don't be alarmed," Krieger waved.

"That doesn't sound so bad," Cyril said.

"It is if you start looking like Cousin It," Krieger said.

"WHAT?" Cyril shouted.

"Cyril relax," Krieger waved. "I've got a shot to counter that. And any rashes you might get."

"RASHES?" Cyril shouted.

"Cyril calm down," Pam said. "I'm sure it will be fine."

"You always say that but it's **never fine**!" Cyril shouted.

"Okay so that leaves 43 cats," Lana counted. "What happened to them?"

"Here's where the part where we might be responsible starts," Pam admitted.

"As we were capturing the rabid cats," Krieger explained. "They proved to put up quite a fight."

"Until we shot them," Ray said. "Poor kitties."

"You **shot** the **cats?"** Lana shouted.

"Only the rabid ones!" Pam snapped. "And after what happened to Cyril we weren't going near those crazy things."

"It was the safest most humane thing to do," Ray sighed. "Reminds me of the time my dear cat Mr. Vomit got sick and I had to put him down."

"Mr. Vomit?" Lana asked.

"He threw up," Ray explained. "A lot."

"Hence the name Mr. Vomit," Cyril guessed.

"That's not why we called him that," Ray said. "He had this green sickly color in his one remaining eye and fur. And he was sort of mauled by a dog so bad that looking at his face some people vomited."

"We're going off **you **now," Lana said to Ray. "Continue Pam."

"The gunshots frightened off all the other cats and they ran all over the place," Pam explained. "And then we were chasing the cats but that made them run even faster."

"And most of them didn't run in very safe areas," Krieger admitted.

"Explain," Lana blinked.

"Five of the cats jumped into the pool out back," Ray said.

"I didn't know cats could swim," Lana said.

"Some cats can," Ray said. "These cats couldn't."

"They also can't fly," Cheryl added. "One jumped off the roof! RRARRRR!"

"Oh God," Lana groaned.

"You know that cats **don't **always land on their feet?" Cheryl asked. "The cat that jumped off the roof landed right on top of an iron fence. A spiked iron fence."

"It looked like a cat-kabob," Pam nodded. "And then a couple of other cats ran into an electric fence on the **other** side of the mansion."

"That's where the fried hairball smell comes in," Ray explained.

"And when I turned off the electric fence to stop electrocuting the cats," Cheryl went on. "They escaped. A few went next door. Where they have these really big, really fast Dobermans…"

"Did any of the damn things **survive**?" Lana groaned.

"The ones that didn't get run over in traffic," Ray said. "Did you know there's a small highway just down the road?"

"That one eighteen-wheeler really got a lot of them.," Pam groaned.

"We're not getting those cats back, are we?" Lana sighed.

"I wouldn't come back here," Cyril admitted. "In fact, I'm not even sure why I'm still here **now!**"

"What are we going to do?" Cheryl asked. "My stupid aunt is going to get out of the hospital and blame me! When this is technically her fault!"

"She did put you in charge of the cats," Pam agreed. "That's a major mistake right there!"

"Exactly!" Cheryl nodded. "Stupid Aunt Cadence."

"Technically we still have nine of the cats," Ray told her. "The stuffed ones."

"We could always get a few more from a toy store," Pam said. "They make these amazingly realistic ones that look like they're sleeping."

"We could also get a few cats from the pound," Ray thought aloud.

"Or off the street," Krieger added.

"Aunt Cadence doesn't exactly have the best eyesight," Cheryl realized. "That's been going the past five years. That and she's had so many eyelifts people mistake her for an alien."

"It's worth a shot," Lana sighed. "Pam, Cheryl. You come with me to some toy stores. We'll get a bunch. Krieger, Ray you get some live ones."

"I've got my capture net in the van!" Krieger grinned. "Goody! I love hunting for new test subjects!"

"They're not **test subjects**!" Lana snapped. "We want the cats alive and **unharmed!** Got it Krieger! Ray make sure he gets it!"

"I'll make sure," Ray said.

"What about me?" Cyril asked as they left.

"Watch the house!" Lana barked. "You **can** watch an empty house, right?"

"Besides," Pam said. "Maybe one or two of the cats will come back?"

"It did in that song," Cheryl said.

"God, I hope not," Cyril groaned as they left.

Cyril stood there for a moment all alone. "I have the weirdest craving to lick myself. God, I hope that's a side effect."

The following morning…

"Well it took all night and some bribing of a few toy store owners…" Pam said as she put a grey battery-operated sleeping cat in a corner. "But we got enough realistic looking toy cats."

"And we put them all around the mansion so it looks like they're everywhere," Cheryl said as she happily played with a few cat dolls. "I think the ones I picked out look really nice! This will fool Aunt Cadence easily!"

"That pink one with the horn might be a stretch," Pam pointed. "But she's old and a Tunt so it's not going to matter."

"Well we got forty-seven stuffed cats," Lana said. "Add that to the nine remaining that's 56. We only need nine live cats to complete the illusion."

"You think Krieger and Ray can get that many?" Cyril was looking around.

"I'm hoping so," Lana said. "What are you doing?"

"I swear I can smell a mouse around here," Cyril looked around, his nose twitching.

"O-kay," Lana blinked as Cyril went on all fours and checked out a corner.

"We're back," Ray said as he and Krieger showed up with a couple of cat carriers.

"How did it go?" Lana asked.

"Well we ran into a few problems," Ray said.

"Of course you did," Lana groaned. "What happened?"

"Well," Ray began. He noticed Cyril walking around on all fours sniffing things but then decided to ignore him. "First we went to the nearest animal shelter. Unfortunately, it seems Krieger's reputation has followed him here all the way to LA."

"Boy," Krieger shook his head. "You use a couple dozen cats for medical experiments and people just won't let it go."

"You're blacklisted by the ASPCA," Ray gave him a look. "I had to pretend I was your cab driver so it wouldn't happen to me!"

"Fortunately, we decided to go visit Adal," Krieger explained. "My clone that works at the animal control department. There weren't any stray cats there. We decided to go find them."

"We spent almost all-night hunting and trapping stray cats," Ray said.

"Unfortunately, most of the cats we caught were rabid or really sick," Krieger sighed. "Three had collars on them and belonged to other people. Adal sent them to the shelter to reunite them with their owners. But as for the rabid cats…"

"I will never forget the Saturday Night Cat Massacre as long as I live," Ray shuddered.

"There wasn't that much blood you baby!" Krieger snapped.

"Oh, dear God," Lana groaned.

"Don't worry," Krieger said. "We left the bodies with Adal who will give them a nice respectful burial. What's left of them."

"Did you get **any cats** at all?" Lana snapped.

"We have three cats," Ray said. "Two kittens we managed to rescue."

"What about the third one?" Lana asked.

"Ta da!" Krieger took out Schnuckiputzi the cyborg cat.

"Meow!"

"You still have that thing?" Cheryl blinked. "I thought it ran away?"

"She came back," Krieger petted the cat.

"Why?" Cheryl asked.

"That is a valid question," Cyril said as he looked around on all fours. "Here's another one…Where the hell can a guy get some catnip around here?"

"How are we only going to fool my old bat of an aunt with only **three actual cats?**" Cheryl asked. "Even she's not that blind and senile!"

"Actually, if we count Cyril that might just even everything out," Lana pointed to Cyril who was casually scratching a chair.

"We could just tell her one got really big and fat," Pam remarked.

"Uh…" Krieger blinked. "What's wrong with Cyril?"

"More than usual?" Lana quipped. "I think he had a reaction to those shots you gave him."

"Let me see something," Krieger took something out of his pocket. It was a laser pointer. He pointed it on the floor near Cyril.

"Hey!" Cyril pounced on the dot and started chasing it on all fours.

"Okay," Krieger said. "He's definitely having a reaction to those shots. No other reason for it."

"Not necessarily," Pam pointed.

"Come back here!" Cheryl was on the floor with Cyril on all fours trying to catch the dot. "Mine!"

"No, it's mine!" Cyril snapped as they tried to pounce on it.

"Okay," Krieger put the laser pointer back in his pocket. Then put down Schnuckiputzi. "I can fix this. Well Cyril anyway. Come on Cyril. Come on."

"Screw you," Cyril sat down and started licking his hand.

"I've got this," Ray said as he pulled out a small box and rattled it. "Treats! Tree-aaats!"

"Treats?" Cyril perked his ears up. "I want treats!"

"Me too!" Cheryl cheered.

"Meow!" Schnuckiputzi agreed.

"Come get the treats!" Ray rattled the box as he and Krieger led the three of them away.

"Yay! Treats!" Cheryl cheered.

"Meow!"

"Well Lana your ex-boyfriend is now a cat," Pam remarked as the two of them were left behind.

Lana shrugged. "I think I prefer him this way."

Sunday morning rolled around and the gang ended up having brunch by the pool. Those that could eat anyway…

"I hate you all so much," Cyril looked very hung over at the table.

"Just be thankful Krieger was able to counter the shot's effects," Ray pointed out as he ate a croissant. "Before you grew a tail."

"Uggghhhh…" Cyril groaned.

"How about some hair of the dog?" Pam poured him a Bloody Mary. "Or in your case…"

"Don't **say it!"** Cyril snapped.

"Hair of the cat," Pam finished.

"She said it anyway!" Cyril groaned. "God, I hate you people!"

"Oh, that's just the catnip hangover talking," Ray waved.

"Kitties!" AJ was playing with the two kittens in a pen. Schnuckiputzi was off outside the pen licking herself.

"Be gentle with the kittens AJ," Lana said as she watched her daughter. "Have you guys picked out names?"

"Oh, I have **names,"** Cyril grumbled as he took a drink.

"For the cats," Lana looked at him.

"They're both mollys," Ray explained. "The grey one is Dorothy. And the white and grey one is Sophia."

"All you need are a Blanche and a Rose to make the set complete," Pam quipped.

Just then Cheryl's phone rang. "Uggh!" She groaned as she answered it. "What? Uh huh. Really? When? Okay…Uh huh. Seriously? Do I have to? Aw man! Fine! I said I'd **do it**! Yes! Go away!"

"Trouble?" Ray asked as Cheryl hung up.

"Nope. Good news. Aunt Cadence died," Cheryl said. "Choked on a hairball."

"Talk about irony," Pam blinked.

"How is that **good news**?" Lana asked.

"I'm in her will," Cheryl said. "And you know how that one guy hired the Figgis Agency to be mourners at his funeral for a couple hundred bucks?"

"I see where this is going," Cyril groaned.

The following morning…

"I can't believe we're doing this **again**," Lana sighed. The Figgis Agency gang was all in black at a small cemetery while a half-asleep preacher was performing a sermon. "Professional mourners."

"Hey it was a perfectly acceptable job in Ancient Greece," Krieger said.

"It's not my fault everyone else hated my aunt," Cheryl shrugged. "And wouldn't be caught dead at her funeral."

"We'd better get at least an hour towards our licenses for this," Lana glared at Cyril.

"Deal," Cyril sighed as he took out a flask and downed it.

Later that afternoon…

"Good news everyone!" Cheryl squealed as she returned to the Figgis Agency. "I got everything in her will! As long as I take care of Aunt Cadence's mansion and her cats for a full year! Then I get almost another billion dollars! Minus taxes!"

"Hooray for the rich getting richer," Pam rolled her eyes.

"And you," Cheryl said. "I'll pay the Figgis Agency twenty-five grand a month in addition to my usual fee if you help me watch over the mansion and the cats."

"Just so I'm getting this straight," Lana blinked. "You're hiring us for an extra twenty-five grand a month to take care of a mansion filled with **stuffed cats?"**

"Except for three," Krieger pointed out. Schnuckiputzi was on his lap and looked at him. "Well two and a half."

"And we'll have a place to live in on the weekend!" Pam said. "And throw some bitching parties!"

"Not to mention torment our neighbors in Beverly Hills," Cheryl giggled. "Ooh this does sound like a fun mini-plotline!"

"Just Purr-fect," Ray quipped. Everyone looked at him. "Too soon?"


End file.
